


Golden Green

by Enchantedtalisman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Wizard Harry Potter, Harry leaves the Dursleys, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enchantedtalisman/pseuds/Enchantedtalisman
Summary: Harry shakes the thoughts from his head and continues through the stacks of the Restricted Section. He is not spending the summer wallowing like last summer. He’s grown, if force-ably. He knows now that Dumbledore isn’t as all powerful as he once thought; possibly childishly. He knows that Professor Snape is a vindictive bastard who can’t leave grudges in the past where they belong.So, Harry must help himself.
Relationships: Godric Gryffindor/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Still can't find more Harry/Other Male Character that doesn't make me wanna rage. (Though I'm not criticizing other authors they're allowed to write whatever they want but also please fandom add a little variety)
> 
> Also, I'm obsessed with Harry/Founders ever since I read that amazing Salazar/Harry fic ages ago. I have no idea how far I'll get into this fic, but hopefully one day I'll have the mental energy to finish some of my long standing fics.
> 
> Fuck you anxiety/depression.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy~

Death.

Harry’s well acquainted with the idea of it, the memory (or nightmare as it were) of it. Even the frightening realization that he very well may die before the year, month, day, second ends. But it still _aches ferociously_.

Almost worse then Cedric Diggory’s, perhaps more humiliating because Harry had lost sight of Voldemort’s trickery, and the knowledge had brought Sirius to death.

Not that Sirius was a  _great_ Godfather, but he had been  _something_ .

Something that Harry had clung too.

Perhaps too tightly.

Harry shakes the thoughts from his head and continues through the stacks of the Restricted Section. He is not spending the summer wallowing like last summer. He’s grown, if force-ably. He knows now that Dumbledore isn’t as all powerful as he once thought; possibly childishly. He knows that Professor Snape is a vindictive bastard who can’t leave grudges in the past where they belong.

So, Harry must help himself.

(Isn’t that always how it is?)

It takes a majority of the night for Harry to finally find the books he wants. And even longer to read up on the spells that will help him remove the _Trace_ from his wand.

The second book he reads idly while he waits for the spell to settle across his wand and slowly dismantle the enchantment of the  _Trace_ . It’s a book on wand crafting and while it interests Harry greatly he’s not keen on being caught and so once the light of the new dawn starts shining and he can tell that his wand is oddly lighter, he closes his books, carefully sets them inside and takes his leave of the library.

For the next few days, Hermione and Ron thankfully leave him alone. Harry doesn’t want to ask why, doesn’t want to chance the spoiling of his boon. While perhaps last year he would want them close, this year he needs space. Needs to focus on his plans.

Like finding books in the library and copying down the list of texts he’s interested in. He goes for what is possibly more Grey Spells then necessary, things that will help keep Voldemort and his cronies of his back. Wards that bind those wishing harm on him in a deathly grip, spells to severe and not just cut, and charms to hide and glamour.

If Hermione notices his sudden interest in books she doesn’t disagree with the habit.

In fact, Harry is pretty sure (a small fond smile flickering on his face for just a moment in time) that he hears the other Gryffindor scolding Ron to be more like Harry. Which is possibly a first for one of Hermione’s rants.

By the time they’re headed ‘home’ Harry’s brain literally hurts, and his eyes are no better. He even successfully makes a batch of pain-relieving potions and eye soothing potions that he puts away for later use (including a bag of preserved food thanks to the kitchen house elves).

The train ride is clearly strained, Harry thinks it’s because Ron and Hermione are still tiptoeing over Sirius, and Harry’s foolishness. But he let’s it be, falling into another book, this time a book Hedwig had brought from one of several books he had ordered, about transfiguring shelters in the wilderness for the average wizard. It even came with a surprisingly helpful guide on safe plant life and animal life to forage for.

Leaving the Dursleys is painfully easy, after all, it’s not like they expect Harry to be able to use magic, nor do they really expect Harry to disappear in the middle of the first night there.

First, unfortunately, Harry has to head to Diagon Alley, as much as he wishes he could create his own enchanted trunk, he’s not advanced enough in charms, transfiguration, potions or spellwork to make such an en-devour work.

It’s a risky decision, because he has no idea if the glamours he’s learned are good enough to hide from death eaters (or done well enough for that matter), but he can’t keep everything shrunk on him forever.

Clearly the order also doesn’t expect Harry to leave so suddenly because he doesn’t see or have any trouble getting out of Privet Dr before summoning the Knight Bus and heading to Diagon Alley.

  
  


It’s...surprising how quiet Diagon Alley is. Even before Harry fully settles his stomach from the bumpy ride he can tell that there’s a different air to the whole Alley. In fact he doesn’t think he sees one single person under the age of eighteen by themselves.

Even a few adults are huddled together in groups.

Harry doesn’t know if he feels vindictive or troubled. Either way he checks his money bag once more, making sure he has enough for a visit to Flourish and a trunk store, before heading off.

  
  


The glamours held. Somehow, Harry expects every second of his trip through the bookstore (as heady as it was to finally be able to pick books not connected to school was) to end in someone yelling “It’s him!” and the quick buy at the trunk shop (He only looks for something with a strong ward and alright a useful bit of organization magic so that his potions, books, and clothes are never too hard to find).

Then Harry is...well, free.

It doesn’t feel as victorious as his old daydreams made it out to be.

But then, Harry isn’t exactly fully free until Voldemort is dead, and while he has plenty of food (thanks to Hogwarts and a trip through Diagon Alley’s shops) and several wards up he spends his first day hiding out in who knows where (a woods though he can’t say where exactly he is other than not in london anymore) rereading his new and old book on security measures until he falls into a restless sleep.

  
  


The Death Eaters don’t find Harry the next day, or even the next week. But that doesn’t stop him from digging into every possible book he can. Flourish isn’t the only bookstore he buys from either. After a bit of digging (thank Merlin Hermione is just pleased with Harry’s invested interest in studying rather than suspicious and also knows a couple of Ravenclaws) he has an assortment of books from different shops.

Some even speak, which is nice because Harry as much as he _needs_ to learn, isn’t one for reading; even when it’s _magic_.

Those that speak are especially useful because it allows Harry to practice his  spellwork and mov e while casting. The Department of Mysteries had shown Harry the flaws in his style of magic-battle and he works on ducking, rolling, and sidestepping while still keeping his wand steady and firing spells. The first few weeks of this pattern leave him more tired then usual, and an odd achy feeling in his body that doesn’t quite feel like his muscles (that aching is familiar enough) but something between his blood and every other cell.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying not to rush and yet not really interested in making the bits I'm not interested in long.
> 
> Enjoy~

Death Eaters do come, eventually.

Harry is mildly surprised it took them this long. But the ward s warn him, though they do not hold as well as they should. He wakes and with a snap of his wand is sending a wide ranged  _Stupefy_ . It’s weak and not useful in keeping people down, but it does what Harry needs which is stun his enemies and stagger them for long enough to get out of his makeshift tent 

Their masks look new, and from a glance, Harry suspects they are his age. It makes him furious though he isn’t sure if it’s more the realization that the Death Eaters will recruit students or that h is own yearmates would give him up to Voldemort.

But there’s no time for worrying or upset, Harry snaps his wand down at the first intruder, a little taller than Harry himself, the spell wraps around them tightly and if Harry wanted he was sure he could push more power into the grey-healing spell to suffocate or crush the other. He’s not interested in hurting  _these_ Death Eaters (though that may very well change if they continue to come after him).

A roll has Harry dodging a curse sent his way and he flings a dismantling curse at the second death eater’s general direction. It won’t do anything sinister, it really should be classified more as a hex truthfully, but it’s a one time use—Harry sidelines those thoughts and checks to see that the curse hit, leaving the death eater in nothing to wear.

The person’s breasts are waving in the wind, and Harry quickly looks at their wand arm instead (it’s just awkward to see a stranger naked is all), and doesn’t have to watch them long before they  disparate with a screamed, “CURSE YOU POTTER!” in a vaguely familiar voice.

“Diffindo!” That voice is very familiar, Draco Malfoy, of course, the spell hits Harry’s arm and leaves a long gash.

Harry grits his teeth and fires a n  _Incendio_ across the other’s robes. It hits because Draco is  _gloating_ (Harry faintly realizes that this is still some sort of game to the other student), “You should give up now Po—AH!” The scream is highpitched and  distraction  enough that with a quick shove, Harry is sending a banishing charm at Draco and the death eater that is still tied up by Harry’s earlier curse.

Both fly through the air into the woods farther away, giving Harry time to shrink his items, undo his transfigurations, and get on his broom. Admittedly not the best exit but it’s certainly better than Draco’s heaving cries and curses in the distance.

  
  


“Healing spells,” Harry feels a fool, of course the Death Eaters would find him eventually—or Dumbledore wouldn’t have insisted so fiercely on keeping him at the Dursley’s (though he is _still_ angry at the man, but that’s the problem Dumbledore is only a man, even with magic). The only book he _has_ on healing magic is _Dark Arts and Their Counters._

Only the desire to combat and know any counter-curses to Voldemort’s favored weapon is the reason Harry has the book. But as he reads, he can’t help but wonder if the Dark Arts aren’t...all bad. It’s clear that not every spell is a curse, and in fact the one spell he uses to heal his flaky and oozing laceration is a dark arts spell. It doesn’t hurt, it doesn’t make Harry crazy with anger or thirst for vengeance.

But it does feel warm and soothing against his skin as it knits back together.

Harry continues reading, searching for a few more wards. Clearly he needs to expand his magic. Perhaps find a  _real_ teacher for the mind arts.

  
  


Losing track of time is almost too easy in a world of of trees and endless reading, spell practice, audio-learning, and battle training. Harry isn’t foolish enough to dive into the deep end of the Dark Arts just because of one spell that didn’t send him into madness, but he starts spreading out his learning material.

Including finding a few rare books on parsel-magic. (It takes quite a bit of gold from his vault, but it’s worth it to see that not every single person in the Wixen world sees parseltongues as evil).

The rest of the summer is spent in a haze like this, and only twice more does Harry have encounters—once with a few order members who get stuck in his sticky-feet ward, enough time to escape, and another where the deatheaters aren’t expecting a dozen snakes of various species to descend on them.

  
  


Harry admittedly almost forgets about Hogwarts if it wasn’t for the owl that looks utterly bedraggled  ( and Hedwig allows the use of her water-bowl ) offering him his school list for the next year.

It’s late, perhaps a week until the next year, but Harry jolts and mulls over going back to Hogwarts for two days before glamouring himself once more, and heading to Diagon Alley.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was gonna hold onto this chapter until I had chapter four done, but I really appreciate the comments.
> 
> Enjoy~

There are plenty of order members looking worried around Diagon Alley.

Harry would feel guilty if he didn’t know exactly what it was like to spend an entire summer doing _nothing_ to help himself fight off Voldemort.

Now at least he’s prepared. Somewhat. His skills could definitely use a polish, but at least at Hogwarts he won’t have to chance being snuck up on. And if it does happen, well, he has a few parseltongue spells at the ready just incase.

Gringott’s is a must, even if he’s avoided the bank for most of the summer the last message from them implied that Harry would  _have_ to visit if any more money was to be withdrawn. Which if Harry thought the Goblins cared at all about humans, would be fair, but he suspects it’s more to inconvience him.

(Not that he can be quite upset when he’s actually started reading on Wixen history, Goblins and other species certainly got bloody shafted)

Unsurprisingly when Harry  _does_ get to the bank there is no special notice. Just a goblin sneering at him, demanding he remove the glamours.

Which, after a moment of  consideration does, it’s of course just as Harry is finishing his transaction (no need to go into the vault, thankfully)  that Tonks finds him.

“Harry! Finally, we’ve been looking for you.” Tonks says and with an unrelenting grip drags him away from Gringotts.

Harry sighs and rolls his eyes when he sees Fred Weasley giving him a very fake admonishing look.

“Good trap by the way Har,” George Weasley says on Harry’s left side.

The jolt and frustration at his lack of awareness (thinking he’s safe just because Tonks and Fred are familiar is reckless and foolish) Harry feels is enough to make him grumble a response.

“You know, the wards? Bill sounded like he was about to have a jolly orgasm when Tonks and Remus explained the mechanics. You even got good old Abetha, she’s not bad with a wand or so I’ve heard.” George grins cheekily at him.

Of course, that’s about when Harry forgives the twins. They always do have a way of making him feel better. And if there’s still a little bit of a crush on Bill Weasley, well, Harry’s matured, he’s over it. Mostly.

Tonks knocks her shoulder against Harry’s, “Got me right worried, you know,” She says accusingly but she’s smiling so there’s that at least.

It’s fairly tempting to try and disappear but Hogwarts isn’t that far away and he’s hardly going to try and escape when already caught. At least it wasn’t Lucius or Draco who had found them. Or Snape.

  
  


“It was so reckless!” Molly is still ranting.

Harry listens politely but mostly he’s pulled out a new book to read. Parselmagic is still hard to find, and Harry’s only practiced a few spells, but he’s enjoyed what he’s found so far. This book is no different, changing shape from what looks like thin black snakes into words as if his brain just has to flip a switch to read them in English.

“I mean the warding was superior to anything I could have made at his age.” Bill says and thank Merlin that he’s not looking at Harry.

Even with James’ dark indian-ancestory, Harry knows he’s blushing visibly. He unfortunately catches sight of the twins.

Who swoon right on cue as if having waited for Harry’s eyes to meet theirs.

Harry looks back at his book;

_Parselmagic is linked to the Dark. But only because only those with said magic truly understand what it entails. Our magic comes from neither light nor dark, we are ephemeral just as the snakes are. Ashwinders come from fire do they not? So we too come from a place unknown._

_Which makes the most impossible magics even more simple to bend to our will._

_You, the reader, a parselmouth, will be told by other scholars that there are set spells and rules to casting with the snake language. That you need a wand of basilisk hide, or a core of a snakes tooth, or even a familiar. You already_ are _a parselmouth, these conduits are only for those that do not have the will to create the spells they require._

It continues on, and Harry doesn’t know if he believes all of it. So far only the spells he’s used (a simple scale shield, and the healing spell that had caused skin to fall off his wound and leave fresh flesh as if it was a week old rather than a few days) were from other parseltongue books.

With an exhale, Molly turns around and sets down a plate full to the brim with food, “At least you look like you’ve eaten,” She sniffs and doesn’t seem to notice the book, “Better than those damn muggles.” As always she and her family still warm Harry’s heart even if they disagree on what Harry should or shouldn’t be involved in.

Hardly Molly’s fault that Harry doesn’t get a choice in the matter when Voldemort has his eyes on him.

Inbetween bites, Harry listens idly to the conversation changing to Fred and George’s shop which seems to be doing very well even though there has apparently been news about Voldemort and the battle at the Department of Mysteries. (He tries to swallow around the bile and sausage in his throat, he wonders idly if Parselmagic can bring back the dead but shakes that off, even if it could he doubts Sirius would want that) 

Halfway through Harry’s early lunch, Hermione and Ron appear looking slightly singed and they’re hugging Harry before he can put down his fork. “We were so worried!” Hermione starts, and then from the sound of Ron’s yelp, pinches his side.

“Real worried, mate!” Ron agrees quickly. And then with a lowered voice against Harry’s ear says, “I told them you would be fine and it would be good to be away from those muggles.”

Hermione huffs no doubt hearing Ron’s whisper, “We’re glad you’re okay, Harry.” She says and pulls back and oh boy, she’s tearing up.

“I really am fine.” Harry says, and wishes he could explain all the things he’s learned. The Occlumency that’s slowly forming in his mind where the fog has hidden most of his mind away. The lack of nightmares and the connection between him and Voldemort slowly fading away. His own progress in different spells and wards. But Molly would no doubt have a fit, and while Harry’s starting to form his own thoughts on Dark Magic and Parseltongue, he’s not sure how well received his opinions would be in this household.

I ronic considering it’s still Grimmauld Place.

“Good,” Hermione sniffs and rubs at her eyes before sitting down, “I hope all your messages about books earlier in the summer means you’ve actually studied and done your homework. We only have a week until classes.”

“Oh, and we took you from Gringotts, did you even get your supplies?” Tonks asks, she’s still sitting at the end of the table trying to make a galleon stay on top of her nose.

“No, but I can owl order them,” Harry admits. At least he thinks he can. He hasn’t really ever had to order an entire years worth of clothing and books from Diagon.

“That won’t do,” Hermione disagrees, and somehow the mad girl gets Molly to get Bill and Charlie Weasley to escort them back to Diagon Alley.

“She’s gone mad with power ever since you left,” Ron whispers, and then looks away quickly from Hermione’s piercing stare.

Harry admits, being alone for the summer had been nice to an extent, but he  _missed this_ .


End file.
